


Busted Braggart

by MadieBelle



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadieBelle/pseuds/MadieBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scout realizes one of his most useful tools could be hidden under his own shirt, but an attempt to impress Miss Pauling goes horribly awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busted Braggart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Measured](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/gifts).



> I've literally only written two works in the past week and both of them end up being ironic to some extent. Also this one is hella longer than the first but there it is.  
> This prompt was also inspired by a couple things. First was a gifset on Tumblr of multiple men removing their shirts, which led me to read Measured's tags. I was then told she had an RP where Scout would practice removing his shirt in attempt to impress Pauling and when he did, got himself caught. This is my rendition of it I suppose you could say? I hope there isn't too much dialogue or detail in this? I'm learnin OTL  
> **Oo also, reader might need an understanding of the 2Fort map to understand bits of this, so here's a couple screenshots on what I based the actions off of if there's ever confusion.  
> "Courtyard" http://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/thumb/4/48/CTF_2Fort_Courtyard.png/800px-CTF_2Fort_Courtyard.png?t=20110323093001  
> BLU Intel Room http://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/thumb/6/6b/TF2_2fort_intel.jpg/750px-TF2_2fort_intel.jpg?t=20110325153519  
> Stairs to Intel Room http://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/thumb/f/fa/CTF_2Fort_Staircase.png/800px-CTF_2Fort_Staircase.png?t=20110323095617
> 
> EDIT: I fixed the spacing and reworded some parts for clarity

Had the workouts been paying off?  
They better be. He didn't give up an extra our of shut eye for anything other than results.  
The newly-broken morning sun stained the sky of Teufort fruity colors of pink, orange and purple, the birds would have been singing had they not learned a lesson or two from their dead buddies about waking up mercenaries before they had to be awake for work.  
Although Scout was up voluntarily. For the first time since he was forced to participate in gym during grade school he made the adult decision to do morning workouts in attempt to bulk up and make himself more appealing for a certain Administrator's assistant.  
What chick didn't dig a ripped hunk? And with a face like his? He was on the road to masculine perfection.  
He grinned at himself in the bathroom mirror of the base residing in the musty bathroom of 2Fort. He flexed strenuously and pushed his fingers back through his hair, winking at his tall, slim reflection as he scoped his triceps (which were actually kind of acceptable seeing as he was known as the skull-smashing slugger of TFI, one could imagine his arm muscles might be somewhat aesthetic).  
The edges of the mirror were beginning to fog from the steam of the shower he was suppose to be in. With his view becoming obstructed he gave up the facade and started removing his sweat-soaked workout shirt before again he paused, checking out his abs. Slowly he continued undressing, watching each muscle shifting and stretching under his slightly tanned skin.  
Oh my god, this is fucking gold. Why hadn't he pulled this on Miss P years ago? He was a catch, this shirt removing deal had to be put in action more often.

He imagined the scenario now: a round of capture the intel wrapping up with him, the star, ending the match with the blue case under his arm. Pauling, absolutely awestruck, chewed on the end of her pen as he peered at her from the corner of his eye pretending not to notice her flushed cheeks. Then he'd pull off his shirt, the other mercs would look at their own lame bodies in jealousy and the sun would come out from behind the clouds and bathe over his cut shoulder blades. And as he stretched she wouldn't be able to contain herself any longer; she'd drop her clipboard and run to him, wrap her dainty arms around his neck, and as the men applauded he'd finally press his lips to her soft, glossy-

Loud banging clamored on the bathroom door and he was ripped from his daydream with a yelp.  
"Aye lad! If ye use all the hot water I'll kill ye before BLU could get the chance to sneeze on ye!" The thick accent of Demoman bellowed through the door. Scout looked at the blurry blob of himself in the mirror that had completely fogged over. "Yea yea keep your patch on scotty I'm workin' on it!" Dazed, he shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. He hadn't even gotten in the shower yet, he'd probably get a few smacks in the skull for using up so much water.  
He rubbed at the fog on the mirror, revealing his face. Winking at himself once more with his crooked grin he finished undressing as more banging echoed on the door.

\---

As the day would have it, the mission of the RED team was to capture BLU intelligence. When Scout heard the report from Miss Pauling he was instantly pumped, only because he knew he was the key to their win and was ready to blow everyone else out of the water. He'd already moved on from his space-out in the bathroom earlier as he clapped his wrapped palms and jogged in place, the Administrator's sinister countdown reverberating off the cold walls of the respawn room.  
The last number hummed the air and the men were launched into the chaos of war, Scout flew ahead of his teammates with a cloud of dirt and dust at his heels. He dodged bullets, hugged corners, and dismantled faces, taunting the opposite team with ruthless sarcasm and a shit-eating grin on his face the whole time. He liked to believe he was doing this all on his own, when in reality Sniper was on the deck and had probably saved his ass at least three times while Heavy and Demoman had respawned multiple times in offense.

Rounding the corner of the stairs to the basement toward the BLU intelligence Scout chewed on his inner lip. He listened carefully, his thumb wearing at a tender spot on the handle of his bat. Peering around another corner down the hallway that led to the intel room straight ahead he eyeballed the bright blue case innocently perched on the edge of the desk and a smirk cracked on his cheek, revealing his outrageous overbite. Ready to dash he pulled on the brim of his cap and let out a quick breath before turning the corner.  
"This is too easy," he laughed to himself with confidence, but the minute he entered the intel room a wild cloud of fire blasted from the flamethrower of the BLU Pyro whom had been silently defending the case. Scout let out a wail and dropped to his side mid-sprint causing him to slide beneath the flames across the sleek floor. Using the velocity to his advantage he pushed himself up with his free hand and abs giving him the force he needed to get to his feet, sending him fast towards the railing protecting the large observation window that took up an entire wall of the intelligence room. With the heat of the Pyro's flames dangerously close to his back he jumped, kicking off the bars of the railing with all the strength he could put into his right leg. He launched off the bars towards the Pyro with his bat raised over his head and with both hands swung down on the masked skull with a clang that echoed throughout the room.  
The Pyro's body hit the floor instantly, followed by Scout's cleats, "Home frickin' run ya party store reject! WOOO!" he jeered at the lifeless pile on the ground loud and proud. "Oh wait oh wait I got a question for ya, who's the best?" Scout crouched slightly putting a hand to his ear listening for a response he knew he wouldn't get, "Oh that's right ya can't answer me 'cuz I freakin' SMOKED your ass!" he howled obnoxiously and cackled at himself. "You could say I'm on fire, but at the same time I ain't! Hang on I think you're needin' some ice for that wicked burn baby!" he continued to laugh at an unsafe volume as he snatched the briefcase off the desk and headed for the hall he'd entered from with the sound of the Administrator's voice signaling the capture of the intelligence.  
He turned to meet the barrel of the BLU Engineer's pistol. Scout's smile wiped from his face instantly and his face turned pale, he closed his eyes ready for a bullet to send him all the way back to respawn when the Engineer let out a grunt. He opened his eyes; the Engineer dropped at Scout's feet, revealing the RED Spy behind him whom had performed his signature back stab. Spy held his cold, steely expression on the corpse when his eyes flicked up to Scout, who stared at him stupidly.

"Go you wailing stooge, and learn to keep your mouth shut when you intend to show off," Spy spoke in his velvety French accent that made Scout squirm with irritation. His expression scrunched into an ignorant sneer.  
"Was that you're way of sayin' you're welcome? Well here's my way of sayin' thanks," Scout pushed past Spy in the narrow hallway and took off into a run, mumbling insults as he skipped steps up the stairs leading to the main floor of the BLU fort. In the hall, Spy dusted his suit where Scout shoved him, grumbling something in French as he stepped over the Engineer's body and descended into cloak.

\---

With the help of Heavy and Medic, Scout succeeded in delivering the intelligence to the RED base. The bell sounded bringing victory to the RED team. A winded Scout left the briefcase on the desk and went to meet up with the rest of his teammates in the courtyard centered in the middle of their fort to hear the results of the match before heading to the rest area.  
He was the last of the mercs to join the bunch. Upon entering the roofless area he squinted at the sun and suddenly felt a sharp pain over his eye brow. He intended to ignore it until Sniper whistled to get his attention,  
"Aye mate, got a little somethin' there," he motioned to Scout's forehead just as Scout felt a tickle down his temple. He wiped at the spot; observing his hand he discovered his tape smeared with blood, and it only took him a minute to remember the BLU Spy's knife he had hardly avoided.  
"Damned BLU frog.." Scout swore. Spy peered at Scout, his attention suddenly caught.  
"Run into a bit of trouble with the opposite team, Scout?" The other members chuckled, Scout glared at Spy. The Frenchman stood in a sophisticated manner in contrast to Scout's lazy hunch, his suit was barely touched save for a random spot of blood here and there. A pompous grin adorned the flawless skin that showed through the spot in his mask, Scout returned the favor by sticking out his tongue. Spy simply rolled his eyes. Scout dirtied his hands and tape trying to stop the bleeding on his head and he was about to ask Medic for help until Miss Pauling entered, abruptly beginning her usual speech about the battle's statistics.  
Suddenly a bulb lit in Scout's brain. He could do it now. This was perfect, he could totally pull off his shirt in front of Miss Pauling and use his cut as an excuse. He had to sop up the blood somehow right?

Pauling continued to talk, and Scout began taking off his shirt though in his excitement forgot to remove his cap and headset first. He hesitated, trying to backtrack into a spot where he could get his headgear off, but he only made it worse. The fabric of his shirt hooked on part of his headset, frantically he tried to skip his head and get out of the sleeves which stretched his shirt and jammed his elbow. He began to panic, and just as he did the attention of Soldier was broken from Miss Pauling and onto Scout as he struggled.  
"Son! What are you doing!" Soldier interrupted Pauling and quickly the attention of the other eight individuals was drawn to Scout who was still struggling haphazardly. Spy choked on his cigarette in surprise before bursting into ugly laughter, followed by a couple "what the hell?"s and the rest of the RED members. Scout ripped at the seams of his shirt, bending in every possible direction in a desperate battle to untangle himself. Miss Pauling stared in confusion at him, how had he gotten to this point? The group around her bellowed with hilarity, and before she could stop herself small stifled laughs broke from her mouth. She struggled to contain her amusement as Scout began yelling at the body of people laughing at his expense under the tight folds of his shirt. Her hand came to her mouth in attempt to hide the smile across her face. Luckily Scout was too entwined in his shirt to see her face, or she would have never lived it down.

As if matters could not get any worse in Scout's situation, he started to wander and back towards a pile of crates. Before Miss Pauling could exclaim Scout's cleat caught on the the rocky dirt, propelling him back into the crates, crashing in every direction around him. The laughter of the mercs grew louder; while some of them shed tears and clutched their stomachs one or two full out dropped to the ground, literally unable to stand Scout's unintentional performance. Miss Pauling, still failing to regain composure, bit her pen and clutched her clipboard in attempt to find sanity. Scout essentially gave up, and lied on the ground miserably amongst the mess of crates. He wouldn't admit it, but he wanted to cry so hard. This was worse than when he crashed into a parked car while he was riding his bike in front of Kelli MacDonald in fourth grade. Scout's specialty: majorly crashing and burning in front of cute girls.

Once everyone's laughter began to die down, Miss Pauling summed up the stats and dismissed everyone, save for Heavy who she requested some assistance from in digging up Scout.  
She placed her clipboard on the ground beside the mess as Heavy started removing boxes.  
"Scout?" she called out. No answer.  
"Is that all little man needs to faint? Very sad." Heavy asked the shallow crate pile.  
"I ain't passed out ya lumberin' fatass." Scout answered angrily as he kicked a crate away and Heavy nodded toward Miss Pauling.  
She smiled back at Heavy, "Are you alright?" she asked Scout.  
"Yeah, whatever."  
"Why were you removing your shirt, Scout?"  
"I was bleeding." his tone was unconvincing and Heavy huffed at the excuse.  
"I see," she replied with as much confidence as he had answered her with. When Scout was uncovered from the last crate, his arms were still locked in his shirt over his head and for a second laughter threatened to take hold of her again but she managed to stop herself this time. Heavy didn't have the same morals and started giggling.  
"Ha ha ha fuck you too, baldy." Scout spat from the ground. Heavy reached down, picking up Scout with ease and setting him on his feet beside Pauling who began to pull at the fabric restricting his arms with little luck in freeing him.  
"My God Scout, how did you manage this?" she ask him in a bewildered tone.  
"I could ask myself the same thing." Heavy stood patiently, watching Miss Pauling tug at his shirt in multiple directions to no avail. Eventually she pushed up her glasses and glanced at Heavy. He nodded once again to her, and without any effort ripped Scout's shirt in two, leaving a split down the middle that made it look like a jacket on his torso. Miss Pauling let out a small gasp when she caught sight of the blood smeared across his face from the gash on his forehead.  
"Oh! So you were bleeding."  
"Toldja." Scout said defiantly wiping at the dried blood. He grazed the cut, causing him to wince and Pauling pulled his wrist down away from his face then looked to Heavy.  
"Thank you for your help. You can go relax now if you'd like." Heavy smiled and trudged off towards the rest area to join his teammates. Scout slipped the remnants of his shirt off and went to follow behind Heavy when Pauling spoke up softly.  
"Scout, would you like me to take care of that for you?" He looked at her shamefully. His ego had gone from fully charged to completely smashed in one catastrophic mistake, he didn't necessarily want to look at the girl he tried relentlessly to impress after the immense screw up on his part.  
"I could just get Medic to heal it."  
"Do you really want to face them now?" He felt like a moron looking at her, but he stopped for a moment to think about walking into the rest area with a bloody face and a destroyed shirt. A defeated look came across his face and he submitted into following her toward her office.

\---

The entire walk was silent except for the occasional sound of the mercenaries conversing loudly, which could be heard all over the base. They arrived at the door to her office, Miss Pauling unhooked the key ring cluttered with dull keys from her clipboard and opened the door. Scout followed behind with heavy shoulders. He had a perfect opportunity to show her how cut he actually was (more or less) under his shirt, and he was too embarrassed to even speak for himself. She motioned to a spare chair for him to sit while she put away her papers in a large filing cabinet behind her desk. He obeyed her gesture and plopped on the edge of the chair, leaning over and resting his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. A headache began to ring in his skull accompanying the throbbing around the area of the cut as it began to bleed again. It was then he noticed burning on his back, he probably obtained some scratches from falling back on the ground too.

This sucked. It's incredible how one could feel like a king, and in a split second feel like the king's fool. He's going to be off his game for the rest of the week with this day on his mind. The room was silent save for Miss Pauling rifling through a drawer in her desk, pulling out some pain killer and the necessary tools to fix his cut. She was trying to locate a cloth when he spoke up.  
"Did I at least make ya laugh?" She looked up at him, he remained unaltered in the chair. She thought back to the episode, reminiscent of the humor he brought her even if it was at his expense and one side of her mouth turned up.  
"Only for a moment," she intended keep a little of her professionalism. He removed his hands from his face and allowed them to relax in between in knees, he kept his eyes on the floor in front of him. A small smile appeared on his face.  
He made her laugh.  
"Hey, I'll make a fool a' myself in front of those assholes every day if it'd make ya smile," he finally turned his head to smile at her. She looked up from her desk, peering over her glasses at him for a moment before pulling out the cloth she was looking for and walking over to him.  
"That won't be necessary. Look at me."  
"Yes ma'am," he sat up and she started cleaning his face.

"Why were you removing your shirt while I was trying to give the day's battle summary?" she inquired for the second time.  
"Like I said, I was try'na clean my face. That bastard BLU Spy, and I say BLU Spy because it wouldn't surprise me if our Spy pulled some shit on me just for the hell of it, scraped me with his freakin' bug knife-"  
"Butterfly," she corrected him  
"Bug, butterfly, like it matters he barely nicked me."  
"I'd say it was slightly more than a nick."  
"Hey I ain't dead it was nothin',"  
"I suppose that's true," she applied the last bandage and handed him a couple pills. He swallowed them as she capped the bottle of peroxide she used to clean his cut. "Uh hey Miss P could ya make sure my back is all set real quick? It's kinda burnin'," She hummed an agreement and he stood, turning to face the wall. He was much taller than she was, most of his height came from his legs but he also had an exceptionally long torso to even his anatomy. Behind him, she blinked a few times.

Even with the bits of rock stuck in his shoulders and dirty scratches, Scout did have an admirable back. She felt an icy fluster in her chest before she reopened the bottle and began cleaning the bloody spots that decorated his back and the numerous scratches along the top where he hit the ground. There were miscellaneous scrapes along his ribs where he rubbed against the splintered wood of the crates, and bruises already started to form where he fell along the edges and corners.  
She cleared her throat trying to also clear the slight blush in her cheeks, simultaneously praying he would keep his attention on the wall in front of him, "I'm sure this would be much easier for you to just go to Medic."  
"You said it yourself Miss P. Try'na face those losers after that is more of a pain in the ass than it's worth. Besides if I had done that you'd be missin' a whole 'nother show here," he peered over his shoulder flashing a smirk down at her before stopping short, "Hold on-"  
"Face forward," she snapped.  
"Nah nah nah wait up are you blushin'?" She pushed up her glasses nervously looking down at the floor and walking back towards her desk.  
"That's ridiculous."  
"Pump your breaks Miss P am I makin' you flush?" his tone was infuriatingly cocky as he followed her leaning on the desk across from her and ducking his head in attempt to get her to look at him. She furrowed her brows trying to give off the impression she was annoyed rather than flustered and put away the supplies, tucking a loose hair behind her ear.  
"The air conditioning in my office has been malfunctioning recently-"  
"Aw c'mon Miss P!" He clapped his bloodied hands together and bound in a circle excitedly around the room, startling her into looking up.  
"Scout please-"  
"There ain't nothin' to be ashamed of Miss Pauling I don't blame ya. Say if ya got some extra time I ain't got nowhere to be for the rest of the day if ya-"  
"Scout leave."  
"Aw naw don't be like that Mis-"  
"Go," Pauling knew how to project her voice without yelling so she could speak over Scout when she needed to, but it was expected of him to resist.  
"You know I love it when you order me around," he stepped back to her desk, leaning in towards her and biting his lip. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively throwing her a smolder that made her chest lurch.  
Pauling shifted her lower jaw in frustration before hiking up the side of her dress and grabbing the gun from her thigh holster, aiming it at him sternly. At first he was distracted by the sudden reveal of her thigh but quickly realized the gun she produced.  
"Whoa- whoa!" he threw up his hands in defense and backed off the desk, "Alright alright I'm goin'!" the smile remained on his face and she motioned with the gun towards the office door, her lips quirked sarcastically. She was joking, while being completely serious at the same time. Scout knew too well than to mess with Miss Pauling to the point she had to whip out her pistol (kinda), "What, you throwin' me back to the dogs Miss Pauling?"  
"Have a nice day Scout," he walked towards the door slowly.  
"Oh I'll try but I don't think it could get much better than you aimin' a gun at my face."  
"Very well," he turned the handle, stepping out the door in a manner that exaggerated his movements. She grinned at him stepping out from behind her desk and holstering her gun back under her dress. She met his face at the crack in the door where he leaned on the door frame in attempt to make himself appealing.

"I outta get caught in my shirt more often," he murmured to her with a smart-ass smirk across his face.  
"Don't count on getting a nurse treatment again, if it happens a second time you'll be facing Medic on your own."  
"Damn."  
"Goodbye, Scout."  
"See ya 'round Miss P," he leaned off the door, winking before she kicked the door shut.  
She turned her back to the door, standing for a moment before something red caught her eye across the room. She walked over beside the chair Scout had been sitting in and picked up his ruined shirt. There was blood stained in one section where it had rubbed against his face while he was stuck and a few dirt smears and random spots from the battle.

The mercenaries weren't aware of what Miss Pauling did away from them, but sometimes when she was called to the Administrator's room during a round her attention was often drawn to the numerous TV screens collaged before her boss. Her observations of the men were regularly judged as unorganized chaos and cacophonies of deafening screaming and explosions. Every so often her eyes caught the screen that displayed the childish shenanigans of Scout. She just so happened to catch his run in with the BLU team's Pyro today, and at first she was extremely (though she hated to admit) impressed, and struggled to stifle giggles during his tell-off on the dead body. She took the opportunity to return her listening to the Administrator when he turned to the BLU Engineer, she knew how the mercs operated well enough to anticipate what would happen next.

She stood alone in her office, fingering the grungy red fabric before she realized the dopey smile on her face.  
She pushed up her glasses, pulling herself from the foolish trance she seemed to fall into before tossing the shirt in the waste basket by her desk and taking the place in her chair.  
As she picked up her pen to begin her paperwork her fingers grazed over the bite marks she had accidentally left in the pen. She glanced at the waste basket, and allowed herself to smile once more as she started her work.


End file.
